Like the Pits of Hell
by Mrs Bella Riddle
Summary: Dorcas Meadowes was always the type to believe she could survive any situations. She was so sure on this occasion. For the First War Competition.


This is written for the First War Competition on HPFC where I had to write Dorcas Meadowes.

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Dorcas prided herself on her ability to always find her feet. No matter what she would somehow cope with whatever was put down in front of her. She always managed to stumble home from too much booze, exhaustion or some other kind of injury. Even if it meant she had to spend some time in St Mungos, she was always proud of her ability to return home safely.

This time she did not think she would.

Hit by the Petrificus Totalus jinx, she was stiff as a board and her bright blue eyes were the only thing that could move. However, they did not help as she could only see the pebbled path and occasionally the hem of a Death Eater's black robes as the group all moved in the same direction.

Unlike them, she was not walking. Her petrified body was levitated carelessly so she bounced up and down in the air as her ripped, torn and bloodied Hit Witch robes fluttered in the breeze.

In a strange way it was actually relieving to be like this. Dorcas had never been one to be able to hide her emotions; anything from righteous anger, to infectious happiness, to all consuming sorrow always lit her features. That night her face would have been engulfed by paralysing fear.

It was strange for her. Normally she was fearless bordering on foolishness. More than once she had been criticised by senior Hit Wizards for dashing into danger without checking where she was going. Often, they were right and it resulted in some kind of injury, but sometimes it paid off and she was able to accomplish a raid more swiftly so, to her, it made it worth the risk.

After today, she conceded they had a point.

It had started that evening. She had been one of the few Hit Wizards in the Ministry building when a report had come in about a possible Death Eater in a pub north of London. Others may have been prudent and wise enough to double check the information.

That was not Dorcas.

After only a quick word to one of her partners, she had dashed off to the location.

Within a moment of Apparating, she had been surrounded by four cloaked figure none of whom looked like they had been drinking.

She had not given up. She was not that type of girl. Logically she had known she could not defeat four, but it was hard to think that way when she had already thrown up a shield charm and had sent a Stunning Spell at one of the figures.

She had fought bravely, but bravery only means so much. In this case it only earned her a Cutting Curse slicing into her ribs, a curse shattering her right arm and a Cruciatus Curse causing her to scream loud enough for the whole town to hear.

In the end, it had all meant she was in this situation: A captive to Death Eaters and genuinely scared.

Dorcas did not know where they were going or what would happen to her. Every inch that they travelled made her heart tenser and made her thoughts more frantic.

She had not been a Hit Witch and a member of the Order of Phoenix for several years to not know what type of people the Death Eaters were. She had heard the stories of all the poor souls who had come back in pieces after being tortured until they died.

She knew it would happen to her

As a muggleborn, she knew the situation would be worse. Her blood status had never impacted her before. Of course, there were those who attempted to mock and bully her for it, but she never let it affect her. She would only stare down the tormentors and insult them right back.

Now it meant something. It meant the chance of living was basically nought.

She should not have cared. She should have only thought about how she was dying for a worthy cause and it was worth the sacrifice; it was certainly what she had thought before. However, now that fate was finally upon her, it was more difficult to accept it. Somehow her brain kept asking, _'Why now? Why not a little longer? Why could she not hug her parents one last time? Why could she not have one more beer with friends? Why could she not play a final football game with her brothers?' _

Staring down at the ground, her eyes were now filled with water as she noticed the path the Death Eaters had been walking on disappear. It was replaced by lush green grass and more black robed figures.

Dorcas also noticed the change of noise.

Before she had only heard the chirping of crickets, the footsteps of the Death Eaters and the quiet murmurs of their chattering.

It was different now. There were cheers and leers and, despite the fact she could not see, she knew they were directed at her. She tried to steel her eyes, but she mostly failed. Even though she did not want them to, the jeers had increased the feeling of terror that engulfed her.

Then, suddenly the levitation spell on her stopped. She was left hanging above the ground for a moment before she dropped. With nothing to do but close her eyes, she fell face first into the grass. It was lucky it was soft as she surely would have broken her nose. It was still hard for her injuries to shoot with pain.

The leers grew louder and she even heard a piercing feminine laugh over the top of the ruckus.

It was suddenly silenced

"Welcome, my Death Eaters." An unusually cold and commanding voice declared from above her. She had never heard the voice before, but she automatically knew who it belonged to. Her heart rate increased as did her desire to melt into the grass. "It seems a little gift had been delivered to us."

It was like a cruel mockery of a show; she heard applause and laughter while she was laying flat on her face, completely hopeless in the presence of a monster. The Hit Wizards had occasionally muttered in jest that they would like to encounter You Know Who in a group to take him down and to end this conflict. However, as the stories of his power grew, the tales of bravado lessened.

Now, Dorcas could not even think about that. It may only have been a voice, but it was the most terrifying voice she had ever heard. Despite the numerous people he had killed and tortured, his voice was filled with such confidence and calmness

From her spot on the ground, she waited for that torture. None came. Instead she felt a spell hit her back.

It was not painful. On the contrary, she felt her petrified bones relax instinctively as she was freed from the body bind charm. The pain seemed to double, but her mind was already screaming at her to stand. There was no hope of leaving, yet she would always find a way to fight.

If she was going to die, it was not going to be lying sprawled on the ground and hoping death would be painless.

Placing her hands against the dewy grass, she pressed herself up to her knees and gritted her teeth as pain shot through her body. Her mind steeled on the task she moved her knees under her and rose to her feet on shaky limbs.

Dorcas had honestly expected she would not have been allowed to stand, but no one had stopped her.

She was left to remain on her feet and stare at her situation.

She was in the middle of a large strictly formed circle of more than thirty hooded, masked and black robed figures. The only exception was the one man she waited until the last moment to glance at. He was almost a foot taller than her, dressed in masses of black robes that emphasised his thin frame and demonstrated how pale his snow white skin was. His face was like someone had poured wax over it and his eyes were framed in red like the pits of hell.

There was the slightest noise in the back of her throat as she stepped back from the monster.

Never in her most terrifying nightmares had she expected such an appearance. There was just an aura about him that screamed at her to flee.

Of course she could not do that.

"Dorcoas Meadowes," he said silkily as if he tasted her name, "Ministry Hit Witch and one of Dumbledore's band of fools. My _my_ I wonder if you know that I have been looking for you for a very long time."

She had not known that. Sure she had known that the Death Eaters she had caught and imprisoned in Azkaban may cause her to have some enemies, yet to think she was known by such an evil man terrified her and robbed her of her voice. She only tried to glare at him.

"So you won't talk? I suppose that does not matter." You Know Who only smirked in amusement as he drew a long wand from the folds of his robes. Dorcas flinched and automatically wished her own wand was in her hand. "If you will not talk I can find all that I need by myself. So Miss Meadowes will you speak?"

Before she could help herself she screamed. "No!" she roared with a scratchy voice, realising exactly where this conversation was going. She would never betray the others. "I won't tell you anything."

She expected torture or pain, especially when You Know Who raised his wand. "Legilimency," he said with his hiss for a voice and, before she could do anything, the spell connected and her mind opened.

Memories flashed before her eyes; there was her as a child, her being sorted into Gryffindor, her entry into the Hit Wizard program and then things started to become more targeted. She screamed, grunted and flailed, but it did not stop the surge of memories of her time with the Order and as Hit Witch. All the information she did not want him to know flowed from her mind until she was left breathing heavily on the grass and glaring at You Know. Letting out a pitiful wine, she tried to find her feet.

This time she did not have a chance. A jet of red light hit her in the side. She let out a high pitched scream as every inch of her body felt like it was burning and being stabbed by thousands of knives. She tried to squirm away, but it only caused her body to flail worthlessly. It felt like it was hours, it felt like days, it felt like years, but, when it stopped, she was left to sob as the pain started to dull.

"My Death Eaters, since I am a generous Lord, I grant you this gift." The voice of You Know Who said from within the fog of her pain encrusted brain. "Teach her how we treat mudbloods and opposition."

They did.

For hours, Dorcas could do nothing more than scream and squirm as she was tortured beyond an inch of her life. She prayed for some kind of mercy to let it all end because that was all she wanted.

When it was finally over, she was left leaking blood, bruised, battered and broken. She could only stare with blue eyes that were filled with tears as a green light filled her vision.

She was finally at peace.


End file.
